


Altered

by NovelistNoel3



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tudor Era, Assassins & Hitmen, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Henry VIII is an asshole, M/M, Spies, gross people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-28 02:43:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20959151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovelistNoel3/pseuds/NovelistNoel3
Summary: Rey is an assassin, a fixer for a secret organization that fixes abnormalities in history. Her new mission is in Tudor England, where she discovers that killing a queen of England may not be as easy as it seems.Kylo Ren is a privy councilor, a close hand to the king with the ambition to become Chancellor. However, his plans seems to change with the arrival of a new lady-in-waiting at court whose objective is as mysterious as her backstory.





	1. Phase One

> _February 1st, 1536, England_

Rey hated England, especially London. The alleyways were overcrowded and smelled of death and depending on the time period, most of the people were either cruel, dying of a disease or utterly distasteful. As always, the implant her arm reminded her of her mission and she was able to cover her nose and mouth long enough to make her way through the rancid streets.

Shop keepers, peasants, and prostitutes made their way around her, not giving her a second glance. A young child ran into the street, chasing after a stray dog. The girl bounded through Rey like she was air, her arms stretched outwards towards the yapping pup.

Rey was grateful for her cloaking device, it made things easier when she started a new mission. Besides, cloaking was protocol for all agents when in time periods without advanced technology. The cloaking tech could hide her tattoos, her freckles, her green eyes and red hair, but it could not keep out the stench of a primitive sanitation system and the memories it recalled. But Rey knew she wasn’t kept around for her recollections.

Rey would not be quick to admit she was from another time period, it was part of her training for the Kronos Organization. As an operative, it was her duty to travel back to the past and correct irregularities in historical timelines known as smudges. Generally, the cause of smudges were known before starting a mission. But this mission was different. This time the organization had no information to give her.

The implant in her arm flashed red. Rey double tapped her wrist and ducked quickly behind a bush as her facade was removed. Her wrist flashed green as her clothes were transformed into a grey damask dress accented with a red overskirt underneath a black riding cloak. Rey brushed her loose hair onto her shoulders as she fixed her eyes on the grey stones of the Palace of Whitehall.

Guards wearing the Tudor rose patrolled the walkways, as carriages ferrying the rich and powerful of England entered and exited the gates. Rey’s eyes darted to her left as she eyed a fountain, bubbling with water with three men standing at its edge. She turned her head slightly, observing two armed guards at the closest entrance, checking for papers and identification. Two other men sat atop the double towers of the palace, most likely snipers. Rey smirked. Should the situation call for it, their weapons would be useless in a fight against her.

Rey painted a smile on her lips and made her way towards the two men at the first guard house. She waited as a younger man in front of her, most likely a clerk by his dress, was given entry to the palace. The first guard, a pudgy faced man with whiskers on his chin held out his hand.

“Papers miss,” he said.

Rey widened her smile. “Of course sir,” she said, reaching into her cloak. She pressed the rolled piece of parchment into the guard’s gloved hand, eyeing the dangling wax seal which would be her key into the palace.

The guard looked over the document, and then handed it back to her. He whistled, calling over a young page boy.

“See to it this woman finds her way to the Queen’s chambers. She has been summoned,” he said.

Rey nodded to the guard and followed behind the page boy. Phase one of her mission was a success.

The simple stone hallways of the palace were empty. Rey’s senses focused on the distant sound of a gavel. The young page must have mistook her expression for confusion.

“Council is in session,” he said. “Most of his majesty’s courtiers are there.”

Rey pretended to fidget with the cuff at the end of her sleeve as she glanced at the time displayed from her implant. 1500 hours. She would have to remember this for later in case it was useful.

“I’m a page for the Queen’s chamber,” the boy said, grabbing Rey’s attention. “The other ladies waiting upon her majesty call me Thomas.”

“Then I am sure I will see you again, Thomas,” Rey said, offering the page a small smile.

The boy paused at the end of the hallway, and opened the door to a private gallery. Rey stepped inside, meeting another palace guard. She quickly observed this man was unarmed. Priceless tapestries and paintings hung on the walls, decorated with the intertwined letters of H and A.

The guard held up his hand and motioned across the room. An older man, carrying dozens of letters bound in a leather folder approached her.

Rey curtsied. “Sir, I am here to be presented to her majesty.”

“Ah,” the man said. “Yes, come with me. Her majesty is expecting you.”

Rey followed close enough behind the man so she could look over his shoulder at the contents of his hands. There was a single key around his wrist and about a dozen letters in his arms, with one unopened. She memorized the small blue wax seal containing the letter A in the middle of the crest.

The older man approached the end of the gallery and held up his hand. He stepped out into the doorway of what Rey surmised was a larger room and bowed.

“Your majesty, the Baron’s daughter, Lady Reyna Bolton has arrived.”

“Thank you, Master Hux,” a distant feminine voice said. “You may leave us.” 

The man, Hux, bowed again before exiting out a separate door without giving Rey a second glance. The implant in Rey’s wrist beeped. Phase two had begun.

Rey walked through the doorway, coming out into a large chamber. At the end of the room sat a woman, dressed in purple under a golden cloth of state. Eight women sat at her feet, quietly sewing.

Rey approached the woman, stopping at the edge of an expensive woven carpet covering the wooden floor. She bowed her head, curtseying deeply.

“Rise, Lady Bolton,” the enthroned woman said. “Let me see your face.”

Rey obeyed and met the woman’s piercing gaze. Her dark hair was tucked underneath a French hood, encrusted with pearls, rubies, sapphires and gold. Her purple gown was made from fine silk fabric embroidered with flowers. Around her neck was a pearl necklace with a pendant of a single letter…_B_.

Rey would have recognized the woman even without the description given to her by Kronos prior to her mission. Before her stood a women loved by some but hated by more; a woman who changed history and caused the deaths of many.

Her name was Anne Boleyn, Queen of England. And it was Rey’s mission to cause her death.


	2. Lady-in-waiting

> Lady-in-waiting

Rey did not know much about the queen, besides what Kronos had sent her in the briefing packet for her mission. She knew where she was born; Kent. She knew she had grown up overseas first in the court of the Archduchess and then the court of the Queen of France.

Anne Boleyn’s return home to England itself destroyed what little peace there was in the English court. When the king declared his desire to marry Anne and divorce his first wife, Katherine of Aragon, many were against him. He executed a bishop, and his former Chancellor for their resistance to his marriage.

Eventually, Katherine died. Anne was crowned queen, and she gave the king a daughter. Her position however, was not safe. Two miscarriages would come with a great price.

Rey held little sympathy for the woman, whose black eyes inspected her features closely. The queen reached out, and felt the fabric of her hanging sleeves between her fingers. Anne’s countenance wrinkled with what Rey guessed was disappointment as she pulled away.

“You have been able to afford fine fabric Mistress Bolton,” Anne said. “I am surprised. Your father may have been a Baron, but after his dismissal from court, I was certain his allowance was reduced?”

Rey’s face twitched as she tried to hide her already growing disdain. Her cover story that Kronos had supplied her with was that she was the daughter of a recently deceased Baron who was banished from court in disgrace after supporting Anne Boleyn’s former mistress, Katherine of Aragon.

“Your majesty is correct,” Rey said, bowing her head. “My father’s income was indeed cut, but in his will he made sure to provide enough money so that I would be able to serve you. He wanted to ensure I would…please you.”

The statement wasn’t false. The technology the Kronos Organization entrusted to its agents was top tier. Rey had a variety of different disguises at her disposal to ensure the success of her mission. She could change her hair color, eye color and facial structure at whim.

“Well, it seems your father is not as much of a simpleton as he was perceived to be,” the queen said, sliding back into her chair. “I trust you are eager to be of my service, despite your traitorous lineage?”

Rey curtsied to the queen. “Yes, your majesty. It is an honor and privilege to serve you.”

The queen smirked, pleased with her answer. At that moment, Rey didn’t mind she would be the reason for her death that would follow in the months to come. She could already picture a thin red line of blood around the queen’s neck where a sharpened blade would meet her skin.

Anne gestured for one of her other ladies to bring forward a Bible. Rey placed her hand on the cover, keeping eye contact with the woman.

“Do you, Lady Reyna Bolton, swear to serve her majesty, Queen Anne, with dignity, honor, all the while presenting a godly spectacle to others?” One of the other ladies in waiting asked.

“I do so swear,” Rey said.

The queen motioned for Rey to take a spot beside another woman on her left side in a cloud of velvet cushions at her feet. Rey curtsied one final time before taking her place.

From her seat, the queen waved her hand. From across the room, three musicians began to play. A man in a red hat, playing the violin, stared intently at the queen, almost as if he were playing for her privately. Rey narrowed her eyes. Mark Smeaton had made himself easy to identify.

Smeaton was what the organization called a secondary target. Secondary targets were persons who the organization deemed useful for gathering information or manipulation so that the mission could succeed. Smeaton would be involved with the mission, this Rey knew, and he would eventually pay for his involvement with his life. Anne, as the primary target, would be manipulated as well, but careful steps would have to be taken. The cunning woman was already suspicious of Rey’s motives.

Rey pretended to be diligent with her needle work while stealing glances at the other ladies and the musicians across the room. The guards assigned to the queen not only kept their distance at the opposite end of the chamber but they didn’t seem to pay attention to what the queen was doing.

The sound of footsteps approaching did not grab Anne’s attention. Rey seemed to be the only one who noticed the men entering the room.

One of the men’s eyes instantly traveled to Rey, and she bristled underneath his gaze. His dark brown hair was short, but hidden underneath a silken black cap on his head adorned by a large white feather and golden beading. His thick mustache blended well with the beard on his chin, complementing his blue eyes.

A smirk spread across his lips, as he bowed to the queen. “How are you, sister?”

“You’re late my lord Rochford,” was the queen’s response.

The smile disappeared from the man’s lips. He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from Rey. She let out a sigh of relief.

“Forgive me, your majesty, but we bring news of the king’s alliance with Spain.”

“Oh, save the formalities, George!” Anne shouted.

Rey raised an eyebrow, keeping her eyes trained on her needlework. She mentally noted the queen had a short fuse. She would need to be careful when entering the next phase of her mission.

George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford, was Anne’s younger brother and another secondary target. Rey already knew he would be unpleasant to deal with, and the knowledge that he too would be dead in the coming months did quiet her thoughts.

George snapped his fingers, calling for a servant to bring forward a pitcher of wine.

Anne, waved a hand in front of her face, desperately trying to keep tears from spilling down her cheeks. George, poured the queen a goblet of wine, and handed her the cup.

“Come now,” he said, gently, leading the queen a few steps away. “Tell me, what is it that bothers you? You know that I am at your service.”

Rey discreetly reached behind left ear, tapping her skin to activate a listening device.

“It’s that bloody ambassador, Eustace Chapuys,” the queen said. “I was moving through the corridor with my ladies and he barely bowed his head to me. It’s an insult!”

“He’ll change his mind soon enough,” George said. “The council has received word that France and Spain are back at war with each other. The French ambassador was received this morning by the king.”

A wicked smile came across the queen’s lips. “Do the French mean to renew a marriage contract between the dauphin and my daughter?”

George hesitated. “No…there was no mention of an engagement, which is a mistake! If the French are so desirous of our help they should beg for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.”

Rey winced. She hated missions involving children. It was her job to kill, but her heart ached with guilt if completing a mission meant leaving children behind without parents. The irony of the action was laughable, after all, she was an orphan herself.

Rey was taken from her thoughts at the sound of a giggle from the woman at her side. She was fair, with blue eyes and blonde hair tucked underneath a French hood. Rey followed her gaze to the second man who entered the room.

He hadn’t moved from where he stood when he entered the room with George Boleyn. Rey hadn’t even noticed him. He blended in well with the shadows of the room due to the dark color of his hair and clothes, but his skin was pale and freckled. The only color on his body was the blood red pendant hung on a silver chain around his neck. His lips pouted in a tight frown as he eyed the conversation between the queen and her brother.

The giggling drew his gaze towards Rey and the woman beside her. His eyes narrowed. He seemed to challenge her to meet his gaze.

“Lord Ren,” the woman beside Rey said, grabbing his attention. “How serious you are. I do not think I have ever seen you smile.”

“I am glad that I amuse you, Lady Rochford,” he said. His eyes darted back to Rey. He hesitated before approaching her, slowly.

Rey set aside her needlework, rising from her seat. She curtsied to the mysterious man, glancing quickly at the queen and her brother who continued to speak to each other at the opposite end of the room. 

“I do not think we have met, madame,” the man said, his voice deep and sultry.

The corner of the man’s mouth twitched in a slight grin. He reached out a hand, gloved in black leather. Rey placed her hand in his, shivering as his lips touched her skin.

She bit her tongue. She had never been caught off guard during a mission. Rey shook her head, she needed to focus. Perhaps this man was another secondary target?

“Tell me, dear lady, who might you be?” he asked, his eyes searching her expression. Rey was hypnotized by the depths of his chocolate colored eyes.

“Careful, Lord Ren,” the queen interjected, pulling Rey back to the present. “She’s the daughter of a traitor. She is of no use to you, nor any man unless they are willing to settle for the penniless daughter of a dead baron.”

The man’s expression remained neutral as he pulled away. He turned to the queen and bowed.

“Your majesty as always is right,” he said.

At the queen’s side, George Boleyn smiled at Rey. “This is Lady Bolton?” he asked. “Funny. I was picturing something more…peasant like.”

The queen laughed heartily, and playfully slapped her brother in the shoulder. The mysterious man did not crack a smile, but he seemed to glare at the queen and her brother.

“Forgive me, your majesty, but we were sent to inquire upon the entertainment for the upcoming banquet,” the man said.

The queen turned towards him, rolling her eyes. “You may inform Cromwell that I and my ladies shall be performing a dance.” Her dark eyes turned quickly to Rey as a smile stretched across her painted lips. “Another thing….Lady Bolton shall also sing for us.”

Rey’s eyes snapped to the queen. Anne Boleyn smirked, her black eyes daring Rey to respond.

“Do you have an objection, Lady Bolton?” the queen asked, retiring to her throne.

Rey’s fingers twitched as dark thoughts began to gather in her head. Her implant hummed, sensing her desire to enter combat.

Rey closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “No, your majesty. I am your humble servant and will do as you ask me.”

The queen frowned, disappointed at her response.

“Very well, Lady Bolton. Make yourself useful and fetch me something to eat,” Anne said, waving her hand, dismissing Rey.

George Boleyn bowed to his sister, the mystery man doing the same. Rey curtsied, following the men from the room.

As she exited the corridor, she noticed the man had paused in the doorway. He turned, meeting her gaze. He said nothing, then he smiled.

Rey clutched the fabric of her skirt, her cheeks burning. She turned on her heel and fled down the hallway, towards what she hoped was the kitchens.


End file.
